There are moments
by hipsterstevie
Summary: Some stories have happy endings, some don't. Some lives do, but Blaine's doesn't. A story loosely based off of Moments by One Direction. Don't judge by the song choice and come on come in and R&R! TRIGGER WARNINGS in the A/N on the very top of the story. spoiler/major warning: they both die


_**A/N:** hi everyone. this is a story based of off Moments by One Direction (as per request) and well before you read this please be aware that there are **trigger warnings **for this story. there'll be mentions of **blood**, **graphic **(if you squint really hard through a microscope) **suicide**, **self harming**, **depression** (just to be safe), **character death **and possibly eating disorders but that one isn't important._

_this story was originally posted on Tumblr but wasn't Klaine and someone suggested that I alter it and post it on so I apologize if the chars are OOC_

_but anywho I hope you'll enjoy reading this and please review, it'd mean so much to me! thank you for reading, in advance.  
_

* * *

_shut the door, turn the light off__  
__I wanna be with you_

He wakes up at exactly 6.30 every morning. He makes his coffee at exactly 6.47. He'd then lean by the counter, left elbow propped against it and right hand holding the handle of the mug. Index finger, middle finger and ring finger hooked around the handle, thumb hooked on the rim of the mug. He sips his coffee until it's 7 sharp, then he washes the mug and puts it out to dry.

He gets ready for work at 7.05. He'd get in his car at exactly 7.39 and start the engine at 7.40. He'd reach the office at 8. After work, he'll drive home. He changes his clothes and goes out running. He'd come back at 8, exhausted. He takes a shower, eats whatever that'd been left on the table by Finn.

_"Have you been eating at all? We've all been worried about you, Burt said he- No? JesusfuckingChrist. That's it. I'm leaving food by your house every day and you'd better eat it. Give me a copy of your key. I'll be there to fucking force it down your throat if I have to." _He'd once been told.

He climbs into bed at 7, and waits until sleep and exhaustion takes over him.

This is what Blaine does each day. He's like a robot, programmed to do the same routine each day. Lifeless and obedient, like a robot.

His boss doesn't even ask him to do much anymore. He knows he'd been considered to be fired a long time ago. He'd expected to be unemployed, but when his boss asked if he wanted to change his cubicle, he can't lie to say he didn't shed a tear or two. It was the only time he'd show emotion, to other people at the very least.

_It's better this way_, he thinks. Robots have no feelings, right? Robots feel nothing.

But then again, he's _not_ a robot.

Everything hurts. _So bad._

_I wanna feel your love_  
_I wanna lay beside you_  
_I cannot hide this, even though I try_

He's in bed, absolutely exhausted. For some odd reason though, he's wide awake. He lifted his eyes that were fixed on the nightstand to glance at the digital clock.

_19:14_, it stated.

Blaine sighed. It's pathetic how early he goes to bed these days. _"Don't you have a life?" _Kurt would say.

He bit his lip hard and rolled over to face the other side of the bed. It was still so neat. Just like how Kurt had liked it.

Pillows fluffed up, free of wrinkles and arranged nicely. Blanket laid out and its side was tucked in nice and snug under the mattress. Bedsheet was even, also free of wrinkles.

It was absolutely perfect. Just like how Kurt liked it.

_Just like how Kurt was._

A warm tear trickled down Blaine's face.

_heart beats harder_  
_time escapes me_  
_trembling hand touch skin_  
_it makes this harder  
_

It's been 8 months of feeling nothing but hollowness. 8 months of tears and misery. 8 months of being alone.

8 months since Kurt had.. _left._

_"KURT!"_

_The younger man looked down, only to find scarlet staining his chest. Eyes widened, he stumbled back before his legs gave way and he collapsed on the cold hard pavement. He felt familiar arms holding him up._

_"Ohmygod. OHMYGOD. Kurt! SOMEONE CALL THE FUCKING AMBULANCE ALREADY! It's going to be okay. It's going to be- don't close your eyes, please. Stay awake. Stay with me. Stay awake, baby. The ambulance is on the way. It's coming. Stay with me, please!"_

_Kurt's eyelids were fluttering shut. Slowly. He was in tranquil. Everything was free of tumult. But wait. Someone was yelling. Why were they yelling? It was loud._

_So, so loud._

_"No. NO! Open your eyes, Kurt! Don't- Please don't close them. Look at me. Look at me, baby. Please." Blaine choked back a sob. Tears were flowing freely down his face as he looked at Kurt. Kurt, whose chest was rising and falling slightly, couldn't quite keep his eyes open. Blood was gushing out of the gunshot wound on his chest. _

_Blaine pressed his palm against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. It was useless. Kurt had lost too much blood already. There's no hope for him anymore._

_It hurts because Blaine knows._

_"Kurt," he cries out softly. "I love you so much. Don't- I don't know how to live without you. I can't. Please don't make me live without you. Please."_

_Kurt could only smile back weakly in response._

_"Sor he coughed blood. _

_"Don't speak, baby. It's okay." _

_"I- wait.." Kurt gasps, his eyes snapped wide open. He coughs a little before sinking back into Blaine's arms, "you."_

_And with that, he's gone._

_Kurt's gone. In Blaine's arms. Bleeding all over the one he loved the most- the one that loved him the most._

_Blaine let himself cry openly._

He touched his face. His hand, the same one that held Kurt when he died.

It was cold and trembling as he wiped away the lone tear on his face.

_and the tears stream down my face__  
_

He couldn't cry anymore.

His eyes were stinging. All his tears he had for the day had already been shed when he visited Kurt's grave instead of running that day.

He'd cried so much just now.

_God_. Why does he even have to cry? Why does he have to be so frail? He was so tired of crying. So tired of feeling so lost, _so empty_.

Why can't this all just end?

_if we could only have this life for one more day__  
__if we could only turn back time__  
_

The day he proposed to Kurt was the best night of his life, Blaine figured.

The romantic boat ride along the "smelly" river Kurt couldn't stop complaining (playfully, _thank God_) romantic dinner with the cliched- but romantic nonetheless violinist playing for them. The look on Kurt's face when Blaine got onto one knee, and the crowd going _ooh _and _aww_ when Blaine pulled out the tiny black box. Kurt tearing up while Blaine was giving his little speech about how much he loved Kurt. Kurt leaning down to grab Blaine's face, peppering it with kisses and _"of course I'll marry you, you idiot"_s. Their emotional kiss after Blaine slipped the ring onto Kurt's finger. It fit perfectly.

They were perfect at that moment.

_"Can't we have that again?" _Kurt would always say.

_you know I'll be your life- your voice, your reason to be my love__  
__my heart is breathing for this moment__  
__in time, I'll find the words to say__  
__before you leave me today_

He can't take this anymore.

It's too much.

He can't-

This is it.

He's ending it.

He picked up his phone and sent a text to Finn. _Finn_, because he's the only one who _cares_ now. Everyone gave up on him, but not Finn. He's been there all this time. Those two simple words was the least Blaine could do.

_'I'm sorry.'_

_close the door__  
__throw the key__  
__don't wanna be reminded- don't wanna be seen__  
_

He got up and went into the bathroom. Doors locked, blinds closed. He stepped in front of the sink counter, looking at his reflection on the mirror.

He was a mess. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. There were dark circles underneath his eyes. His cheeks were hollow. He'd lost a lot of weight- what was once his tight-fitting shirt now hung loosely around his neck.

Kurt would've reprimanded him and ordered him to eat everything they had in the fridge.

If he were still here.

_don't wanna be without you__  
__my judgement's clouded, like tonight's sky__  
_

Thunder erupted, sending crash-like sounds throughout the area.

Blaine glanced up briefly at the closed blinds. _Huh. It figures. They did say it was going to be cloudy tonight. The thunder though, adds up to the drama I guess._

As he turned his head back to look at the mirror, something glinted and caught his eye. It was his _good ol'_handy razor.

He smiled solemnly as he pulled up his long sleeves, revealing long red streaks that covered literally every inch of skin.

He remembers nights where he'd be in tears, digging the razor over and over again into his skin. He remembers how good it feels, how it'd take him away from all the hurt he'd been feeling.

He shudders.

Tentatively, Blaine lifts his left wrist up to his face, closely examining it before lowering down. He picks the razor up with his other hand and brings it to his wrist. Sharp tip pressed against the sensitive skin on his wrist, he takes a deep breath before pressing it with force and drags it across the skin.

He looks at the cut. _Too small, too shallow_,he thinks.

He makes another cut, deeper and longer this time.

Blaine chuckled bitterly as he watched fat droplets of blood drip onto the sink. It was like watching art being made. Blood dripped wherever he moved his hand.

It's not like he's never thought of this moment for the past 7 months and 3 weeks. It's not like he'd never been so _so _close to doing it before, only to end up curled in his bed and in tears. It's not like he's going to regret anything because _what is there to regret_?

He cuts again, another deep incision before dropping the razor, letting it clatter noisily as it hits the sink. He basked in the sight of the amount of blood that seeping out of the cuts he made.

He laughs again

_hands are silent_  
_voice is numb_

He decides that two _measly_ cuts won't satisfy him, so he cuts again.

And again.

_And again_.

He went at himself like a maniac, slashing his own wrist with a huge grin on his face. And each time he made a cut, the razor dug deeper and deeper into his flesh.

Sometimes he wonders, has he gone mad? Has he gone absolutely bonkers? What's happening to him. Would Kurt want this for hi-

_Would Kurt want this for him?_

Suddenly there was blood oozing out of a long red line on his arm.

It doesn't hurt. He's used to the sting that comes with every cut, but it doesn't _hurt. _It doesn't hurt like how losing Kurt hurts. It doesn't hurt like how knowing that he won't ever be able to see Kurt again hurts. It doesn't hurt like how Kurt had promised to be by his side forever, (_Forever, _he scoffs) hurts.

He feels like he's invincible. Nothing can hurt him. Nothing can move him. _He feels like_ _Superman_.

But even Superman has his weaknesses. And his kryptonite, is obviously _Kurt_.

Blood was flowing in small streams from his wrist onto the sink and floor.

He tries picking up the razor with his left hand, but it's gotten weak. He was starting to feel dizzy, his body was getting number and weaker every second.

_Not fast enough. _

Trying again, he successfully picks it up and makes 5 fast but deep cuts on his right wrist. His hand weakened a bit, but with a little more force he tightens his grip on the razor and slashes his flesh repeatedly.

Satisfied, he turns around and leans against the counter. Looking at both his wrists, he sinks to the floor.

Blaine closes his eyes as he leans his head back. He can feel blood flowing out out of his veins. He felt peaceful, in a way. There's a serenity he's never felt before. It's like his worries are all gone, just like that. He likes this.

He opened his eyes and looked down. He smiled weakly. The red had already seeped onto the pristine white tiles.

"You took something perfect and painted it red," he sang darkly.

_try to scream out, my love__  
__it makes this harder_  
_and the tears stream down my face_

"BLAINE! OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

_Finn? Was that Finn? Is Finn really here?_

"God help me, open this door right now or I'll break it down!"

_Oh Finnegan. Always so forceful. Be patient, will you?"_

The door opened with a loud crash. He heard Finn mutter under his breath and suddenly there were arms shaking his shoulders. He went a little limp at the movement, falling sideways. Strong arms held him up before he could fall to the ground.

He was slowly drifting into unconsciousness, the darkness was taking over.

_if we could only have this life for one more day__  
__if we could only turn back time__  
_

Finn was yelling louder. _Why do you always have to be so loud, Finn?_

"FUCKING HELL. WAKE UP! WAKE UP RIGHT NOW YOU SELFISH, IGNORANT BASTARD!"

_Selfish, ignorant- what?_

Blaine's eyes snapped open. Everything was so foggy. He tried to focus on what he decided was Finn's face. All he could see was an outline of a face and blurred facial features.

He felt something wet drip on his face.

_Finn was crying? Frankenteen? Finn "I-need-to-keep-a-cool-face-because-Puck-told-me-to-or-he'd-kick-my-ass" Hudson, was crying? Crying for Blaine?_

Blaine smiled wearily as his eyes fluttered shut, going back to the darkness.

"STAY WITH ME!"

_Isn't that what I told Kurt to do? He didn't do that, did he now._

_you know I'll be your life- your voice, your reason to be my love_

"Blaine."

A voice was calling for him. It sounded so familiar. So warm, so _welcoming._

"Kurt?" Blaine managed to croak out softly, despite his lack of breath.

"Kurt? Wh- NO! No. Don't go with Kurt! Stay with me! Stay with Finn!"

_Why would I want to do that? This is Kurt. The same Kurt I promised to that I'd go with him wherever he goes._

___my heart is breathing for this moment__  
_

"Blaine." The voice was louder now.

Bright lights suddenly shone at him. There was a silhouette standing before him.

It became bigger as it approached Kurt. The nearer it came, the better he could make out the features of this form.

He knew who it was, of course he did. But he was _aching _to see his face again. The beautiful face of one who had left him 8 months ago. The one with the _'face-of-an-angel'_.

Blaine's_perfect little angel, _he'd once call him.

Wearing only a pair of pants, Kurt was standing in front of Blaine. He seemed so peaceful, happy and flawless all the same. There was no gunshot wound, Blaine had noticed.

Smiling, Kurt reached out a hand.

"Come with me, Blainey."

His nickname had never sounded so fitting. Only then he realized exactly how much he'd missed Kurt. His entire being was screaming at him to take Kurt's hand, but he hesitates.

_Should I? Is this.. Where will we be going? _

"Come on, just follow me. You trust me, don't you?" Kurt seemed a little impatient, his face still kind regardless.

_Of course I do._

_in time, I'll find the words to say_

He trusted Kurt. _Of course he did._

In his unconscious haze, he reached out and grasped Kurt's hand. And suddenly, he felt free_._ Truly _free. _Like he's been let go and he's never felt so _alive_.

It's ironic, considering the situation he's in.

Kurt pulls him along towards the bright lights as he revels in the feel of being able to hold Kurt's hand. He trusts Kurt to bring them to somewhere better, somewhere they could finally be happy and together again.

So he follows him.

_before you leave me today__  
_

Blaine's body goes completely limp. Chest still. Face sickly pale.

He's dead.

Gone.

A certain Finn Hudson lets out a cry of anguish as he holds a lifeless Blaine Anderson in his arms.

**THE END**


End file.
